


My charade is the event of the season

by inplayruns



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, ep 3.03: Bad Day at Black Rock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inplayruns/pseuds/inplayruns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ain't the first time she's disappeared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My charade is the event of the season

**Author's Note:**

> Rather obviously, Tara = Charlie.

“Yeah, but normally,” Tara - when all else fails go back to _Buffy_ \- sighs into the phone, tugging her skirt down an inch. If nothing else spurs her on, she’s gonna leave because of this job’s friggin’ bummer of a dress code. “I’m looking up other stuff.”

Jewelry, and not jewelry anyone would wear but giant emerald and opal monstrosities she had to _hoist_ with all her forearm strength. Statues of pagan gods she had to help Bela pull out of some really old looking temples, and that was awesome because it was like they were right out of _Land of the Lost_ ; she’d totally been humming the theme as they ran along the edge of the forest, the moon a sharp slice in the sky and the brush wild all around them, ruins cold and crumbling in the distance, and it was like they were the only two people in the world, and for a minute, Tara could _appreciate_ that. Fancy-ass art, that whole deal the pretty brunette got involved with. A lot of art these days, obviously. Suck it, Musee d’Orsay, you wouldn’t even notice some of those Degas sketches were missing until it was probably too late.

“A rabbit’s foot in some guy’s storage locker?”

“Since when do you question these things?” Bela comments, with amusement in her tone. Tara feels weird hearing that damn sexy accent on the other end of the museum’s cheap old phones.

Tara’s pretty sure Bela really does like her, despite the fact that she brought PBR to her apartment that one time and didn’t bother to hide her grimace when she chugged like three cans. And then went on the forums tipsy-borderline-drunk, and ended up complaining about how unfair Hermione not ending up with Luna was to Bela, because hey, it’s been months since _Deathly Hallows_ came out but the epilogue still sucks.

Tara likes Bela despite the distance, after all, despite the fact that they’re pressed up naked together sometimes and there’s still this… barrier. Tara doesn’t know why, and she’s not gonna ask, but she gets it. Of all people, she would.

“Sure thing,” she chimes back, hanging up quick. Any phone calls more than a minute and the museum has to pay, which means they’ll probably start poking into the line. No thanks.

It really is kind of amazing what you can do while just private browsing, she recognizes, as she pushes up her _new_ \- she’s been here six months, she should stop thinking of everything as new - wire rim glasses, and cheerfully sets out to find out about this John Winchester and his storage locker.

—-

_You got us into a lot of trouble, lady, and I don’t know who you are but we can do research too, and you got someone killed, so -_

Tara practically jams her finger on the screen of her phone. She doesn’t need to hear any more of the message. Honestly, she’s lucky it’s not too late already.

bouncingbabynames.com tells her the most popular name in the US is Sophia. Sophie’ll do. Maybe Sofie, because Julie Dreyfus was pretty friggin’ smoking in _Kill Bill_ (and like, everything).

She makes two calls. More than normal. She calls in her resignation, and it’s too bad that she gets Allie on the phone at the Met because she was cool, too, and totally understood the importance of really loud drunk karaoke. “I’ll friend you on Facebook,” she says, and Tara wishes she could make bad Monet/Manet puns with her one more time.

“I gotta go, Bela,” Tara tells the answering machine, a couple of minutes later. “I’ll be okay, I just gotta get out. Uh, you’re awesome, and I really hope you find what you’re looking for. If you find me, hey, I wouldn’t mind meeting up again.” The subtext she knows Bela will recognize, because she’d put it there too: _But don’t look._

When Sofie Collins gets on the first plane leaving for Ontario that night, the bits of her phone after she shattered it with a hammer all across her kitchen table and those freakin’ too-big wire rim glasses in the garbage bins outside her apartment, she realizes it wasn’t only Bela who had that barrier up all along. Not a bad thing, definitely not with the lives they were leading, just a thing to be aware of.

She looks out the window and watches New York City turn into just another blur of gray as the plane rises, higher and higher, into the air. She’s pretty sure she’ll actually miss it. Give it six years, and she can come back.

**Author's Note:**

> In an ideal world, there would've been far more fandom references and computer talk. Unfortunately, I'm pretty fandom monogamous and computer illiterate. Hope I was able to convey one-billionth of what made Charlie so very appealing anyway.


End file.
